


My Crown of Lead, Your Mask of Stone

by StrawberryNova



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Did I mention this is a slow burn, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Five Year Mission, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryNova/pseuds/StrawberryNova
Summary: When Jim becomes the Captain of the Enterprise, he finds himself immediately captivated by his First Officer. At first, he believes his desire to be close to Spock is born out of respect and admiration, but he soon discovers more complicated feelings hidden under the surface. After some time, the two become good friends and eventually something much more. This is a story about the development of Jim and Spock's relationship from the very beginning, from crewmates to friends, to lovers, to bondmates, and the tests that their relationship faces throughout their adventures.This is somewhat episodic, with TOS-inspired plots mixed in with all my favorite K/S tropes.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 11
Kudos: 40





	1. The Mighty Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter takes place near the end of the first six months of the Five-year Mission with Jim being a new Captain. This is a slow burn folks, like really agonizingly slow. I began at the beginning of Jim and Spock’s relationship, so there will be growing pains, but I hope the end result will be gratifying. Also, be assured that any original characters now and in the future will not play any major ongoing roles. I make up a lot of stuff so some cannon-divergence could be expected.  
> Warnings: This chapter includes the death of a minor original character, mild descriptions of death, symptoms of stress, anxiety, and trauma, and alcohol consumption.

Jim pushed himself away from his desk and rubbed his tired eyes. He was hardly surprised to find that four hours had passed since he first sat down to finish reports and sign documents. It had been a long day and an even longer week.

* * *

Three days ago, they had encountered an uncharted class M planet called Polara III. The intent was to gather scientific data on what should have been a routine scouting mission. There were apparently no intelligent beings on the planet, so Jim made the executive decision to bring some first-year ensigns from the science labs to give them experience gathering samples. Along with them, he brought Spock, Sulu, and Bones, along with two veteran science officers. Jim thought that with these experienced members overseeing the gathering of samples nothing would go wrong. That proved to be a grave miscalculation.

They beamed down into what appeared to be a remote wilderness. The temperature was warm like a June day, the sky was blue, the air smelled sweet and fresh. The idyllic feel of the place reminded Jim so much of the summers back home and he felt a pang of nostalgia. The foliage, however, was incredible and unlike anything he had seen yet. Instead of lush summer emerald, every leaf and blade of grass was bright magenta. Sulu looked almost childlike in his excitement, as did the ensigns, who very nearly were children. Spock began stoically scanning the area with his tricorder, while the others practically frolicked about in the sunshine. Kirk smiled and thought about the upcoming shore leave, he hoped it would be on a planet like this.

The party split up to gather samples. After a few minutes, Jim broke off and carefully waded through the underbrush toward a small pond. He trod lightly and avoided the tree roots that stuck up from the soft yellow soil, he hoped he wouldn’t end up with some alien form of poison ivy. When approached the shore he stopped for a long, cleansing breath, taking in the mountains and the whisper of leaves in the wind. Though the world was gloriously calm, Jim himself was not.

The burden of command was something he carried well. He compartmentalized, he kept himself keen and sharp, he was in control of himself whenever he was in that chair. But he felt it in his body now, the physical strain, the lack of sleep, the constant stress. Feeling solid ground under his feet after six months in space made him feel like Jim again, not just Captain Kirk, and Jim had a lot on his mind.

“Are you well, Captain? You have remained motionless for the past eight minutes and forty-three seconds,” came a familiar voice from behind him.

Speaking of things on his mind, his First Officer approached the edge of the underbrush and looked at the captain with his usual unreadable gaze. It was off-putting to Jim that he couldn’t guess what Spock was thinking. Generally, he was quick to intuit the mood of those around him. He needed that feedback to feel, well, secure in what he was doing. Spock was still an enigma to Jim, and his great respect for the veteran science officer made Jim want to know him even more.

“Fine, Mister Spock, just taking in the wonder of the natural world. Beautiful, isn’t it?” He said in his usual enthusiastic tone.

“The elemental composition in the soil on this planet is fascinating. I believe it accounts for the unusual appearance of the foliage,” Spock replied, bending his head to examine the readings on his tricorder.

Jim smiled and shook his head. Try talking to a Vulcan about aesthetics. Jim walked up the small embankment back to the group. He would return to ruminating on his own time.

The party was scattered, everyone was bent down and invested in their work. The younger ensigns were gathered together and talking excitedly about their work, except for one. Jim noted the absence but went up to Sulu to hear what he had to say about the fascinating soil composition.

In the middle of their conversation, a loud whoop broke out somewhere above them. On the top of the large rock face, under which the other ensigns were gathering samples, stood the fourth missing ensign with his hands outstretched to the sky.

“I’m on top of the world!” He yelled jovially, his voice echoing against the mountain behind him. Kirk and Sulu smiled at each other, rolling their eyes. Bones scowled up at the ensign from the base of the cliff.

“Get your behind down here before you break something that I can’t fix!” Bones yelled up to the boy. The ensign didn’t respond but stooped down to pick up something from the ground. As soon as he did, the rock face began to tremble and the sound of falling boulders clamored through the air.

“Move!” Kirk yelled, running toward the ensigns at the base of the cliff. He grabbed two by their shirts and pulled them away, while the third stood frozen in shock. The cliff face began crumbling rapidly creating an avalanche of stone. Kirk ran back to the third ensign, adrenaline and terror rising in him as he watched a huge boulder tumble toward her. He leaped toward the ensign, fully tacking her to the ground and shielding her with his own body as small stones rained down around them. For several moments the world went silent as they all stayed still until the dust began to clear. Kirk flung himself to the side, breathing heavily, and began searching for the rest of the party through the haze.

“Status report!” He barked into the communicator.

“I am undamaged, Captain,” came the reply from Spock.

“All good here too,” Sulu said.

“I’m fine, but I lost visual on Ensign Harris. He was up on that cliff when the whole thing came down,” Bones replied.

After receiving confirmation that everyone else was okay, except for some cuts and bruises, Kirk called up to the Enterprise to have a search and rescue party sent down, and the ensigns sent up to sickbay. They all looked stunned and a bit worse-for-wear. Ensign Delgado, the one he had saved, cautiously approached Kirk.

“Captain, uh, thank you. For saving my life, I can’t-I mean I just froze. I don’t know what happened, but you could’ve been killed. And it would have been my fault,” she said looking upset and desperate.

“No thanks are necessary, ensign. I would do the same for any member of the crew,” he said and meant it. “And your reaction was completely natural, don’t sweat it. Now, go back to the ship, get checked out, and get some rest,” he ordered gently. The ensign nodded and went back to the group about to be beamed back aboard.

The next several hours were spent climbing over the rocks looking for Ensign Harris. They called his name over and over but heard no reply. Where the rocks had fallen away, a large cave entrance appeared, the façade intricately carved with alien symbols. Perhaps an ancient civilization had lived here, perhaps there were life forms undetectable still present on the planet. But any further anthropological discoveries would have to wait until the ensign was recovered. And if they didn’t find him by nightfall, his chances of survival dropped dramatically.

Kirk and a portion of the party entered the cave to see if the ensign was inside. The walls were made of some smooth crystalline material that reflected the sunlight bleeding down from the jagged gap now in the ceiling. In the center of the cave was a small stone pedestal that looked as though it once contained water, and around it in a circle were large statues carved with strange, grim faces. Several large rocks had fallen through the crevice above and knocked over some of the statues. They went over at once to pick through the pile of rubble there. Kirk’s heart had hardly stopped racing since the cliff toppled, and now, nearly three hours into the search, a sickly sense of dread was creeping into the pit of his stomach.

“Harris!” Shouted one of the party members. Kirk’s adrenaline spiked again as he ran to the rubble pile.

“Outta my way!” McCoy yelled as he burst through the throng, pushing people back, and climbing deftly over the rocks. Kirk followed close behind. The young man had fallen through the gap in the ceiling and a huge boulder had fallen on top of him, leaving only his head, neck, and one arm exposed. Kirk could tell by the boy’s pale, blueish skin that one of his worst fears was about to come to life.

McCoy took his hand away from the boy’s pulse point, looked at Kirk gravely. Time was suspended for a moment as Jim sucked in a breath, anticipating what McCoy was about to say. For the first time, he uttered the words Kirk never wanted to hear.

“He’s dead, Jim.”

* * *

Jim pushed the memory down, but the feeling stayed with him. He was sick with guilt over the death of the young man, the boy. He was just a boy, just 21 years old. And his mother- oh god, his family would-

He slammed his fist down on his desk in anger. If he hadn’t been indulging himself, he could have kept a better eye on the ensigns. He could have prevented the whole thing if he had just been present, just been the Captain he needed to be. But he let his guard down, he slipped for just a moment, and now there was blood on his hands, the blood of someone innocent and young. It was inexcusable. And Jim would never forgive himself for it. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that face, that dead face in that dim cave spotlighted in the sun.

He needed a drink.

Jim exited his room and started down the hall to pry Bones away from the mountains of paperwork he was no doubt swallowed up in. The doctor was the only one that could commiserate with Jim over this loss without making him feel worse. Whenever he looked at the forlorn faces of the rest of the crew, that guilt shot up in him. But he had to stomp it down, he had to remain unflappable in the face of this tragedy for the sake of his crew. Compassionate but uncompromised. That’s what they needed from him. But Bones was his friend, and with Bones Jim could be weak, he could be a man in pain and not a Captain. At least for a little while.

* * *

Jim was making his way toward McCoy’s office through the quietly sleeping ship. It was late and only the low hum of the engine could be heard in the deserted halls. The whole place felt oppressive lately, haunted by the shadow of death and loss. That sickness rose in his stomach again.

As Jim passed a small, recessed room, used mostly as a lounge area, Kirk spotted a figure standing before the large viewing window. He knew by the silhouette and the stiff posture who it was, but he was surprised to find him here at this hour. It was Spock, staring contemplatively out into space with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Spock?” Jim said tentatively. Spock turned smoothly, unperturbed, leveling his very neutral gaze upon him.

“Greetings, Captain,” he said in that low timbre.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, approaching him but standing at a respectful distance.

“I am undamaged, Captain,” he replied as he had after the avalanche. Those words sent Jim into another condensed flashback of that day. He pressed the feelings down hard.

“I meant about what happened the other day. How are you feeling?” He asked, studying the very composed demeanor of his First Officer.

“If you are inquiring whether my mental status is compromised as a result of the incident, I assure you it did not affect my ability to serve efficiently,” Spock replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Of course he wouldn’t be up to talking about his feelings. He was a Vulcan, after all. What did Jim expect?

“I’m glad to hear it. I admit, I’m a bit shaken up,” Jim said, immediately regretting it. He carefully appraised Spock to see how this admission would go over. Would Spock consider him unfit for duty? Jim wanted to be able to trust Spock, trust him as a person, not just as a Captain trusts his best officer.

“Shaken up, Captain?” Spock repeated, the colloquialism lost on him.

“I mean I feel terrible about what happened. That death…it was my fault,” he breathed, running his hand through his hair.

“While it is true you were in command at the time of the ensign’s death, it occurred as a result of the displacement of an object by the ensign, which caused the collapse of the structure. It would be illogical to assume any direct action on your part caused the event,” Spock replied effortlessly.

“It was my inaction. You stated yourself that I, what was it, ‘remained motionless for eight minutes and some seconds?’ I should have been with them, I should have-” Jim bit off the sentence, clenching his fist as the anger at himself rose again.

“Captain,” Spock began coolly, but Jim shook his head and put up a hand, composing himself in an instant. _Reign it in, Jim,_ he said to himself.

“I apologize, Spock. I didn’t mean to bother you with this. I just saw you here, and you’re never here at this hour. I wanted to make sure you were okay. What are you doing, anyway?” Jim asked, trying to shift the conversation away from his own conscience.

Spock was silent for a moment, his face stoic, but he seemed to be formulating a response. The two stared at each other. Kirk felt a bit bewildered and wondered if Spock was going to reply at all.

“I was considering whether there is some purpose for death in the larger universe. Besides the physical function of providing nutrients to the surrounding ecosystem,” Spock replied in a bit of a rush, his eyes darted downward for a moment, and then back to Jim. Was that shame Jim saw in those guarded eyes?

“It is a very illogical question to devote one’s attention to, as there is no way to formulate a conclusion on the subject,” Spock said with some acidity, effectively chiding himself.

Jim was struck with surprise at this. Apparently, the death of the ensign had affected Spock. This was a huge admission for a Vulcan, Jim knew. It was not lost on Jim that, upon bearing his own insecurities to Spock, his first officer responded in kind. Jim felt a warmth bloom within him for just a moment. Spock trusted him with what he considered to be a moment of weakness, of almost human folly.

“I don’t find it illogical at all, Mister Spock. I often have the same thoughts myself,” Jim said, walking back toward the hallway. He paused a moment, debated saying something more, something like ‘questioning death is just human nature,’ but decided it might offend Spock. So instead, he said,

“Goodnight, Mister Spock,” with a weary smile.

“Goodnight, Captain,” his First Officer replied cordially, and Jim left him alone.

* * *

Jim walked into McCoy’s office puzzling over what had just occurred. The doctor was indeed hunched over his PADD and looked worlds away.

“Quitting time, Doc,” Jim said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.

“What time is it?” Bones groaned, pressing his palms to his eyes.

“2200,” Jim said, leaning on the doorframe. “How about a drink or two?”

“Three sounds great,” Bones replied, and got stiffly up from his chair.

They went to Bones’ quarters for the drink, as they often did, to avoid the company of the crew in the rec room. Jim practically collapsed into the chair in the corner and put his feet up on the small coffee table. Bones came back with two glasses of whiskey on ice and put one directly into Jim’s hand. The captain swallowed the whole thing in an instant, handing the glass back to McCoy to fill. The doctor raised an eyebrow at him but brought another without comment, and then he sat down in the opposite chair.

“So, how are you holding up?” Bones asked seriously, sipping his drink.

Jim let out a long breath.

“I’m barely keeping it together, Bones. I can’t sleep, I feel sick all the time, I’m having…flashbacks. I just keep thinking about that ensign’s family, I keep thinking about what I could have done to prevent this,” Jim said honestly, putting his elbows on his knees and letting his head hang down.

“You’ve gotta stop beating yourself up, Jim. You can’t keep going on like this. If you do, you’re going to break. That can’t happen. Not now,” Bones said sternly.

“I know, I know. It’s just, damn it, I didn’t expect it to be this hard,” Jim said ruefully, taking a pull of the whiskey again.

“What? Losing a crew member or being the Captain?” Bones asked with a raised brow.

“Both,” Jim replied with a sigh. “I guess I was naive, or cocky, or both. I really thought I would be a good Captain,”

“Well, you are a cocky sonofabitch, but you’re also a great Captain. You’re doing fine, Jim. And no Captain in the history of interstellar space exploration hasn’t lost a crewmember at some point. I know it’s not a comfort, but this will probably happen again, and you can’t crumble every time. This wasn’t your fault, there is nothing you could’ve done. It was an accident, pure and simple,” Bones declared with finality.

Bones was always good for dishing out the hard truths Jim had to face. True, this might happen again. Jim blanched at the thought of another ghost getting in line to follow him through his days, another shadow to haunt his sleep. But that was Jim’s burden, and he couldn’t let his crew suffer for it. He had to get it together and do everything he could to keep this from happening again.

“You’re right,” Jim said after some time, looking his friend in the eyes.

“Well mark that one down with the date, James T. Kirk said I was right,” Bones exclaimed, smirking at him triumphantly. Jim felt a real smile cross his face.

“In other news, I think Spock is having an existential crisis,” Jim said conversationally. Bones burst out laughing and nearly spilled his drink.

“When pigs fly outta my ass,” Bones laughed, shaking his head.

“He said he was contemplating death,” Jim stated, smiling despite himself.

“Like suicide?” McCoy asked, his brows knitting in what could be concern. Not that he would ever admit to being concerned about Spock.

“No, the purpose of it,” Jim replied with amusement, leaning back in his chair.

“Jim, the man is practically a computer. I don’t know what you heard, but I’m sure that you misunderstood. There is no way he was waxing poetic about life and death,” Bones replied, still chuckling.

“That’s exactly what he said! I told him I felt responsible for what happened, and he said he was thinking about the purpose of death in the universe or something. I don’t know, I think it got to him,” Jim said earnestly.

“Nothing ‘gets to him’ he has the emotional depth of a brick wall. You’re just plumb crazy,” Bones said, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know, I’m worried about him,” Jim admitted.

“For the love of- if there’s anyone to NOT be worried about, it would be that Vulcan. He has a penchant for philosophy, so what? He’s going to be fine, you’re going to be fine, we’re all going to be just fine,” Bones said firmly. Jim simply nodded and finished his drink.

Jim went back to his quarters in a considerably better mood than before, though he was by no means content. He knew it would be a long time coming before his conscience could rest. But somehow Bones had given him enough motivation to push through. He was the Captain, after all, and if he crumbled now it would only guarantee more death in the future. He laid in bed and thought about that poor boy, and inevitably the accident played in his mind again. He tried to remember what Bones had said, that there was nothing he could have done. Maybe he was right. He ruminated on it for a long time, staring at the ceiling above, willing his brain to shut off so he could function tomorrow.

His mind came back around to Spock. How vulnerable it was, that admission. That look of shame in his eyes when he glanced back up at Jim. Jim counted it as a gift, and it gave him hope that with that newfound personal trust, they could become friends. The last thought he had before he finally slipped below consciousness was the memory of Spock standing in front of that window, his silhouette against the dim light of the stars falling pale upon his skin. But by the morning, that thought was gone.


	2. A Night to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the crew goes on their first shore leave and Jim, being a serial romantic, gets drunk and commits an embarrassing indiscretion witnessed by his First Officer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m pretty nervous about this chapter. Jim is a raging bisexual in my opinion, and this chapter contains M/F coupling involving Jim but nothing explicit. Look, we all know Jim is a playboy and, in this case, it gets him in trouble.

* * *

After a few weeks, the ship was mostly back to normal. The atmosphere was not oppressed anymore, and the buzz of excitement about the next day’s shore leave was in the air. The Enterprise was due to deliver some medical supplies to the planet Tralgon, then the ship would be docked in a nearby starbase for routine maintenance. Meanwhile, the crew would get to enjoy some R&R planetside while the ship was out of commission. Jim had been to Tralgon once, and as he recalled it was a pretty rainy planet but hospitable, nonetheless. It was only a three-day outing but hopefully, it would be a good morale boost to the crew before heading into space again for a longer stint.

Jim was getting himself some coffee before his shift. He scanned the mess hall for an open table, and to his delight, he saw Spock sitting alone with his nose buried in a PADD. The two had shared a few casual conversations over the past three weeks, mostly revolving around the Enterprise and her various scientific pursuits. But Jim felt confident enough to approach him as he felt they had built a good rapport.

“Good morning, Mister Spock,” Jim said, standing before the table and leaning into one hip as he balanced the tray.

“Greetings, Captain,” he replied, looking up from his PADD and setting it on the table.

“May I join you?” Jim asked with a grin.

“You may do as you wish,” Spock said, looking at him with that undiscernible expression. Not as friendly of an invitation as Jim might have wanted, but he would take it.

Jim sat down and took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat.

“So, do you have any plans for the shore leave?” Jim asked casually.

“I intend to continue research on the samples obtained at Polara III,” Spock said simply.

“But…the Enterprise will be undergoing maintenance. How will you do that without the onboard instruments?” Jim asked, his face twisted up in some expression between confusion and mirth.

“I intend to remain aboard the Enterprise,” Was Spock’s nonchalant answer.

“They will be turning the power off, Mister Spock. They are upgrading the emergency surge protector units,” Jim informed him, watching his face carefully for a reaction.

The only reaction Spock gave was a moment of silence and a single blink.

“I was unaware. Given that fact, I shall endeavor to spend the time improving my mental faculties,” Spock said, seemingly unperturbed.

“What about taking some time off? Relaxing? You know, having fun?” Jim asked with a chuckle.

“I am not fatigued, nor do I require engagement in what humans consider ‘fun,’” Spock retorted.

“Then how will you be ‘improving your mental faculties?’” Jim asked playfully.

“Through meditation, reading the most recent scientific publications, perhaps making improvements on the chess program I have been creating,” Spock said, taking a sip of his tea while keeping his eyes on Jim. That action made Jim feel a bit pinned down and squirmy for a reason he couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes when he talked with Spock, he felt like he was addressing an entire audience.

“I’d like to try your chess program some time,” Jim replied, casting a sunny smile at Spock.

“I was unaware you practiced chess,” Spock said with a barely imperceptible raise of an eyebrow.

“I do, and I’m pretty good too. I find it quite _fun,_ ” Jim stressed, beaming at his first officer. “Would you like to play with me when we get planetside?” he asked, feeling some surge of anxiety that was uncommon for him.

“I am amenable to that suggestion,” Spock answered. Jim felt a surge of victory.

“Perfect. We’ll be in contact, then. Have a good day, Mister Spock, I’ll see you on the bridge,” Jim said as he finished his breakfast and got up from the table. Spock blinked, not expecting the pleasantry.

“Indeed, Captain,” he said, pulling his PADD back up to his nose.

Jim walked away feeling like he had just won the lottery. It was a few moments before the feeling gave him pause. Jim had never reacted that way to someone agreeing to a game of chess before. Jim chalked it up to his great respect for Spock and the desire to become his friend. Consciously, that was what he accepted to be true. Deeper down, however, some feeling that was much more complicated was beginning to take root and he was not ready to address that. Not at all.

* * *

The next day the Enterprise crew beamed down the members of the crew who were at liberty to enjoy their shore leave immediately. Jim, Spock, Bones, and couple of unlucky ensigns had first to deliver the supplies bound for the medical center before they could relax.

By Federation standards, the Tralgon Medical Center was woefully out of date. They were greeted by some members of the Starfleet Medical Corps that had been deployed on the planet and had been waiting for the arrival of the equipment for nearly a year. With them were the heads of the Tralgonian Medical center. The Head Officer of the Starfleet Medical Corps was a beautiful young woman who greeted Jim with a smile and a surprisingly firm handshake.

“Laurel LeBeau,” she said, introducing herself.

“Jim Kirk,” was Jim’s reply, unable to keep himself from beaming. Her smile was infectious.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain, I’ve read all about you in the Starfleet Newsletter. Youngest Captain ever, that’s definitely quite the accomplishment,” Laurel said, appraising him with her eyes. The look was almost flirtatious if Jim was not mistaken. There was a clearing of a throat beside him, it was Bones, looking at him expectantly.

“And this is my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. McCoy, and my First Officer, Mr. Spock,” Jim introduced, a little sheepishly. Laurel shook McCoy’s hand and bowed politely to Spock.

“Mr. Spock, Starfleet’s first Vulcan officer, and Dr. McCoy the leading expert in Exobiology and Space Psychology. What a star-studded crew you have on the Enterprise,” Laurel said appreciatively.

“I’m lucky to have the finest officers Starfleet has to offer,” Jim replied honestly.

“Dr. McCoy, I’d love to talk to you more about your development of the procedure of grafting neural tissue onto the cerebral cortex,” Laurel said. McCoy cast a victorious look at Jim and offered her his arm.

“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” he said in his most charming southern drawl. “If you promise to show me the Tralgonian subdermal regenerators, I’ve heard they’re practically antiques,” And the two walked into the bowels of the Medical Center together.

Once the delivery was complete, everyone immediately scattered to enjoy their little break.

It was late in the day when Jim finally walked into his room of the large Tralgonian hotel. As it happened, Jim and Spock had rooms down the hall from one another, and Jim was put right next to Bones. It was a pleasant and small room, no more than he needed and no less, just a bed and a bathroom and a dresser for clothing. He flung down his bag and immediately jumped onto the bed, spreading out like a starfish. He was so ready to relax. He stayed there, motionless, for about fifteen minutes before scrubbing at his face with his hands and willing himself up before he fell asleep.

Jim took the liberty of utilizing the shower. The sonics did their job, but they had nothing on a good old-fashioned hot water shower. Oh, how he had missed hot water. He luxuriated for longer than he should have and stepped out into the steamy room feeling very refreshed. He toweled himself off and pulled out his civvies. Nothing fancy, just a pair of dark gray pants with some stitching around the knees, a dark blue shirt with a slight V-neck, a black jacket that was about 15 years old by now, along with his worn-out old black boots.

Almost as soon as he had dressed and considered what to do next, a knock came at the door. Jim opened it to see Bones, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura all dressed down and grinning at him.

“Come on, party train’s a leavin’,” Bones said and practically pulled Jim out the door by the collar of his jacket.

They made their way in the fresh air of the night to a bar just a few blocks away. The place was packed, just how Jim liked it, and the alien music was loud and lively. They sat down and ordered a round of drinks and took in the ambiance.

“Ah, finally some time to kick up ma’ feet!” Scotty said, leaning back in his chair and putting them on the edge of Chekov’s chair.

“For just two more days,” Chekov replied, pouting just a bit, and pushing Scotty’s feet away from him.

“Better than none,” Uhura said pushing Chekov playfully on the shoulder.

“Two days is plenty for a lad to get into a bit o’ mischief,” Scotty said giving a pointed look at Chekov, who blushed in reply.

As their drinks arrived, Jim took one up and raised it in the air.

"To our first six months in space," Kirk offered, “and to the finest crew this side of Aldebaran,”

“And to our fearless leader and his good health,” McCoy cut in, giving Jim a sideways glance.

"Cheers to that!" Scotty yelled, and with that, Jim considered his shore leave officially underway.

Everyone put a mighty effort into getting drunk. Jim hadn't let himself go wild like this in a while, and it felt good to cut loose, to laugh and joke with his friends that were fast becoming his family. For those few moments, the pressure of command was lifted from him as the warmth of the booze and that blessed delirium began to sink in.

The group began splitting off. Chekov was chatting up a young Andorian, Uhura and Sulu were setting fire to the dance floor, and Scotty and Bones were playing some card game with a group of Tralgonians, and losing, judging by the string of curses Bones let out over the music.

Jim turned his sight toward the bar and decided he would be adventurous tonight. There were several ravishing beings that seemed to be flying solo. Any one of them Kirk would be thrilled to engage in any sort of activity they wanted to with him. It was just his luck that a beautiful young woman he recognized caught his eye and began sauntering toward him.

"You look familiar, do I know you?" she asked, sitting across from him at the now empty table. It was none other than Laurel from the medical center.

“I seem to recall seeing you before, but maybe it was just in my dreams,” Jim answered suavely, turning up his legendary charm to 100. That response earned him a musical laugh and Jim felt his blood start to rush through his veins.

“You know, I heard something about you,” Laurel said in a low voice, leaning on the table to get closer. Jim mirrored her.

“You mean other than what you read in the newsletter?” He asked, giving a crooked smile.

“Yes, I heard you’ve had more lovers than a Qintrian Courtesan,” she said. “Is it true?”

“Well, I’m not sure I’m quite up to that standard, but I do pretty well in the romance department,” he said jokingly.

“I see. Now, would you say that’s because of your magnetic personality, or your roguish good looks?” Laurel asked, trailing her hand over Jim’s that was set lightly on the table.

“You tell me,” he said, leaning in even closer. They were about a breath away from each other now and Jim could smell her exotic perfume. It had been so long since he engaged someone like this. He felt hot under the collar at just that small contact.

“The jury’s still out,” she said breathily, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes.

“Would you like to dance?" He asked. Wordlessly, she stood up and followed him to the dance floor.

\------------

By the time the lights came on in the bar, Jim was conclusively drunk, and from the looks of everyone else on his team, so were they. Bones and McCoy were singing some silly old song, arm in arm as they burst out the door. Sulu and Uhura were laughing and pushing each other around. Chekov was absent, it seemed he was getting into some trouble with that Andorian he was chatting up earlier.

"Let's get some grub," McCoy offered, saying it as though the suggestion was as a stroke of genius. The others started agreeing emphatically.

"Go on ahead," Jim said, standing by the door and waiting for Laurel to return from the powder room. “I’ve got…plans,”

"Have a good night, Captain," Uhura said suggestively, waggling her eyebrows. Everyone else grinned at him and Scotty winked and gave him a thumbs up. Jim rolled his eyes, a little embarrassed, and waved them off.

Laurel came back and put an arm around Jim, smiling up at him.

"I've never kissed a Captain, you know," she said, batting her eyes and leaning closer.

"Well, I can help you with that," Jim murmured, bending his head down to kiss her. They had great chemistry and in Jim’s current state he was nearly overwhelmed. God, he forgot what it was like to be touched like this, to feel close to someone. He was starved for it.

"So," she said in a low voice, "my place, or yours?"

Jim gave a laugh.

" I think you stole my line," he said and took her gently by the hand.

Jim walked them back to the hotel, or rather, they staggered together in the general direction. When they finally made it into the elevator, Laurel pressed herself against Jim, running her hands up his back under his jacket. Jim shivered. They stumbled through the hallway, stopping to make out right outside his door while Jim fumbled for the key card.

Just at that moment, to his complete horror, Jim spotted Spock coming up the stairs on the other side of the hallway. Laurel was laughing and kissing his neck while Jim's bewildered eyes met Spock's and locked there for a second. He felt himself blush a hundred shades of crimson as Spock approached his door. Jim’s hands faltered, missing the slot for the key card, his eyes darting from the door to Laurel, to Spock dizzily. Spock looked away, his eyes now purposefully avoiding Jim’s, and entered his own room in a rush. Jim was mortified, to say the least.

Finally, he got the door open and tried to regain his mojo. For a minute, even as he kissed this beautiful woman, Spock's face burned behind his eyes and he tried to push the embarrassment away. What would he think of Jim after this? What would he say?

Laurel started pulling off Jim's jacket and he became distracted from his shame, his brain still addled by the booze and his blood still hot.

_I’ll deal with it later,_ Jim said to himself. He was on vacation and, after all, it had been far, far too long.

\-------

Jim awoke with a splitting headache and a terrible dry mouth. He was sweaty, all tangled up in the bedsheets, and noticeably alone. The memories of the previous night were shockingly clear considering his state, especially the moment that he had locked eyes with Spock outside of his hotel room. Shame. It made him blush even though he was alone. But did he regret it? At the moment, he mostly regretted drinking too much as the sun stabbed his eyes and his stomach turned over.

Jim rolled out of bed in search of water and saw a piece of hotel stationery pulled out and left on the dresser. It read:

_Jim,_

_I had a great time last night. Sorry I had to leave early, my shift starts at 0800. Stop by the Medical Center if you have time, I’d like to say goodbye before you go._

_Thanks for everything,_

_Laurel_

At the bottom of the note sat two hangover pills, circled in pen. Jim smiled and blessed the Starfleet Medical Corps.

It was about 30 minutes before Jim felt well enough to shower and get dressed, and by that time he was starving and in desperate need of some coffee. He walked out of his room and over to the one Bones occupied, pounding on it loud enough to wake the dead. There was a curse and a slam inside, and Bones appeared at the door in his underwear, blinking up at Jim with reddened eyes, looking almost worse than Jim did.

“Enjoy your ride on the party train, did you?” Jim asked, grinning at the haggard man.

“Go to hell,” Bones spat and walked away, leaving the door open for Jim to enter.

Jim sat on the bed and waited while Bones picked through clothes and uniforms he had thrown out of his suitcase and onto the floor.

“What about you? Have a good time?” Bones asked in a gravelly voice as he pulled on some pants, he had a smirk on his face Jim did not appreciate. That moment that he locked eyes with Spock flooded back into his mind and he blushed again, for the second time in an hour, which Bones took as an affirmation. Jim said nothing.

“Well, you still got it,” Bones said, gulping down about twelve ounces of water and slamming the glass back onto the nightstand.

“Yeah…still got it,” Jim echoed, feeling far away.

The two went down to breakfast and he saw some other crewmembers from the lower decks populating the café. Jim tried to set his mind to planning his itinerary for the day. Jim scrolled through the local attractions with Bones on his tablet and talked about hitting up a local nature preserve to get some air and check out some native wildlife, seeing as they had spent the last six months in a temperature-controlled metal tube. By the time they had finished their breakfast, however, the sky became overcast and moody, and their plans were effectively foiled as it started to rain.

As it seemed he would have to re-evaluate his time off, Jim began thinking of things he could do indoors. He thought about his offer to Spock to play chess but that little event had now become a lot more complicated. He decided that when he saw Spock he would at least ask to play again. Maybe if he just pretended nothing happened then everything would be fine. It wouldn’t be awkward at all, Jim promised himself. He wouldn’t let it be awkward. Nope. Not at all. Everyone else was fine with Jim’s one-night stand, he was kind of known for dalliances at this point. He’d been pretty loose since even before he joined the academy. Why would Spock care, of all people? It would be just fine, Jim reasoned with himself. He almost had himself convinced.

However, for the next two days of shore leave Jim saw neither hide nor hair of Spock. Not even once. It was a disappointment, to say the least.

Jim spent his time going on several outings with various officers. He checked out a local museum, he hit the shops, he spent a couple of hours at a few local cafes to sample the cuisine. He even went to a concert downtown, and though Jim didn’t find the music to his taste, the experience was worth it. The five officers hit the bars again, but this time, they kept themselves under some semblance of control, and Jim just barely abstained from charming the pants off of an extremely handsome Glatian who seemed very interested in Jim. But Jim was in no hurry for a repeat performance of the night before. Of course, a little bit of indulgent flirting and a dance never hurt anyone.

In between the outings, Jim sat in the hotel lounge reading, secretly hoping to see Spock walk through the foyer so he could ask him to play chess and break the ice, if for his own sanity. But he never showed, and Jim hoped that his little indiscretion didn’t ruin any chances he had becoming friends with Spock. That thought hurt him, perhaps more than was reasonable. While Jim had no doubts they would remain a great team, his First Officer and himself, he wanted them to be friendly. Maybe that was some internal compulsion of his, to get everyone around him to be his friend. But Jim suspended his self-induced psychoanalysis and concluded that he simply enjoyed Spock’s company.

\-------------------------------

The day came and the Enterprise, all clean and updated, received her crew at the spaceport. For Jim, it was time to put his Captain’s hat back on. This time the ‘hat’ felt less like it was weighing him down, and he felt a little bit better about resuming his post, even excited about the next phase of their mission. Even though his past still haunted him, he was determined to carry on.

As far as his personal life went, well, it had suddenly become more significant than before. He sent a short letter to Laurel to say goodbye, apologizing that he couldn’t make it in person. In reality, he just didn’t want to face her or relive that night. It was something best left in the past just like all his other hasty affairs.

Now that they were back on the Enterprise, Spock wouldn’t be able to avoid him, which Jim took as a comfort. Jim made up his mind that he would talk to Spock and clear the air. Obviously, it had offended Spock to see a Starfleet Captain engaging in drunken indiscretions. This would be a lesson to Jim to keep it in his pants. But more than that, Jim didn’t want to risk any further harm to his and Spock’s budding friendship. Jim decided it was time to leave that sort of thing behind and maintain the integrity expected of him. He wanted to be better.

Spock made him want to be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yikes. My apologies for that. But, the next chapter is going to be Spock-centered so I hope you stick around.  
> I hope I didn’t put a bad taste in your mouths after this last chapter. Thank you so much for reading, and a HUGE thanks to my commenters who made me cry a little with your beautiful encouragement.


	3. Crushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Spock tries to address his turbulent mental state after discovering his Captain in the arms of a lover during shore leave. Jim confronts him about that night, and the two are forced to face some complicated feelings simmering under the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get somewhere! There's not much action in this, but the next chapter will contain a bit more plot. I hope you enjoy it!

Spock’s mind was disquieted. That much he could admit to himself. The reason, however, was not as easy to accept. Usually, Spock was able to avoid an emotional response to any situation and allow logic and reason to prevail. It had taken a lifetime of painstaking training to get himself to experience a situation, examine the most logical response to it, and act accordingly. The few times he was affected in an emotional manner, he was able to quickly identify what he was feeling and allow it to pass through him until it was gone. This left him in great control of his mental state, and in general, allowing for a neutral emotional disposition.

As Spock sat in quiet meditation, he thought back to when the mental turbulence had begun. Unequivocally, it had been when James T. Kirk had assumed command of the Enterprise.

Spock’s evaluation of the Captain thus far was that he held many qualities necessary for effective command. He was intelligent, knowledgeable of many relevant subjects, confident, authoritative without being patronizing, and obviously capable of making some soundly logical decisions. In addition, the crew seemed to respect him, and often sought him out for advice and for personal conversations. However, he was intensely emotional, passionate, at times irrational, and allowed these qualities to rule some of his judgments and reactions. These things Spock found distasteful, but they were all decisively human qualities. And there was nothing to be done about that.

The heart of the issue was not whether Spock thought that Kirk was fit to be the Captain of the Enterprise. Indeed, with proper experience, Spock believed that the Captain would surpass even Pike in his achievements. No, the problem which Spock had was that somehow the Captain was able to penetrate his carefully constructed defenses and, not only that but elicit emotional responses from him that he was not acquainted with. To Spock, this was very disconcerting indeed.

Spock pondered why, after the death of the Ensign, when the Captain spoke of his illogical feelings on the matter, Spock had responded by admitting to a pattern of thought very inconsistent with his Vulcan nature. It was not their way to contemplate mortality, much less admit to it aloud. Then, when Spock did admit this, he felt shame, no doubt a remnant from his childhood borne from the thought of what his father would say. Worse than that, he conveyed his shame. Spock saw that the emotion registered with the Captain, he saw it in the way the man’s eyes softened at him, the way he cocked his head to the side as he regarded Spock. That merely compounded the sense of shame, which took Spock an inordinately large amount of time to clear out of his consciousness. What was it about the Captain that was so easily able to disarm his practiced Vulcan neutrality? Was it Kirk’s personable disposition? His unguarded countenance? His unfettered acceptance of his crew? Or was Spock slipping in his control, losing himself to the madness of his human heritage after all these years?

The second occasion, which presented a problem much more difficult to resolve, was the night Spock had intruded upon the Captain during his moment of personal relations with the Chief of the Medical Corps. To begin with, Spock was taken off his guard. When he saw the couple kissing in the hallway, he was unaffected by the very human display of passion. They were two non-descript persons who Spock was more than ready to ignore. However, when the man’s eyes connected with Spock’s, they registered as familiar. Being as the Captain was not wearing his uniform, Spock had not realized at first it was him. When he did recognize him, Spock was surprised. As it seemed, the Captain was shocked as well. Kirk’s face filled with red blood, denoting acute embarrassment, as the woman continued to lavish him with affection. The embarrassment seemed to transfer itself into Spock, as he was aware that he himself felt embarrassed upon the intrusion. Spock worked hard to keep his composure and exit the situation as quickly as possible.

When Spock entered his own temporary quarters, other emotions flooded into him and flitted around his mind before he could capture and dismiss them. His defenses had been weakened, and now he was awash in feelings he simply was not accustomed to. Embarrassment, how illogical. He knew humans often engaged in sexual relations whenever they felt so inclined. Spock had intruded upon their privacy, but they had been in a public space. Spock was not culpable in having encountered them.

There was also some form of anger? Irritation? Dislike? That welled up in him directed at the woman who the Captain was with. Again, highly illogical. She had done nothing to promote these feelings in Spock from the short interaction they had shared. Spock believed she was competent and respectable in her profession. Then, what was the origin of this sudden animosity toward her? Spock had no solution.

The most concerning feeling of all was desire. When Spock saw the Captain, his face flushed, his hair disheveled, his eyes hooded, pupils dilated, his languid posture as he embraced the Medical Chief, he was struck with a strong sense of what could only be physical attraction. Spock was unaccustomed to this reaction within himself, especially when it was so encompassing and overwhelming. It was improper. It was inappropriate. It was unprofessional. It was _illogical_.

It was for those reasons, therefore, that Spock elected to remain secluded in his quarters for the remainder of the shore leave. It was obvious to him that his mental faculties had indeed weakened, and he needed to repair them. Quickly. As to avoid any such reaction in himself in the future. For nearly 48 hours, Spock neither ate nor slept and spent his shore leave in a state of dedicated meditation, attempting to purge himself of these and other illogical feelings that had been plaguing him for nearly six months.

At the end of it, Spock believed he had returned to a state of neutrality and emotional stasis, though he was unable to arrive at a solution as to why these emotions had so overtaken him in the first place. Spock deemed this acceptable, however, as it would not interfere with his ability to serve adequately. Or so he thought. 

The Enterprise left port at 0700 hours and resumed normal functionality. Spock arrived punctually for his shift, as usual, as did the rest of the bridge crew. Nothing of note occurred during their first return shift, except that the Captain seemed somewhat more withdrawn than usual. And he would not even cast his eyes in Spock’s direction. From his demeanor, Spock concluded the Captain appeared to be deep in thought about some matter for the majority of the shift. He did not make his usual quips and small talk to the crew, electing to remain silent except for when commands were issued. Normally, Spock would not mind this, as he felt this was a much more conducive atmosphere for optimal functionality of the crew. However, this varied from the Captain’s usual behavior and Spock wondered if this did not signal that some problem was afflicting the Captain.

Upon the termination of the Alpha shift, the bridge crew exited. As was his custom, Spock allowed the rest of the bridge crew to go before he made his leave. This time, the Captain also lagged behind. Before Spock was able to reach the lift door, the Captain approached Spock with an expression he was not able to adequately interpret. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows were knitted, signaling some form of concern, Spock guessed.

“Mr. Spock, I wanted to talk to you. Privately,” the Captain said, his voice lacking its usual bravado.

“Yes, Captain. May I inquire upon what subject?” Spock inquired, maintaining his careful neutrality of tone and expression.

“Would you meet me in my quarters in ten minutes? I’d rather talk there,” The Captain asked, as the Beta shift crew began entering the bridge.

“Affirmative, Captain,” Spock replied, and walked stiffly away as the Captain greeted the Beta shift crew with his normal enthusiasm, though to Spock’s ears, now accustomed to his usual patterns of speech, it sounded forced.

Exactly ten minutes hence, Spock arrived at the door to the Captain’s quarters, which were adjacent to his own. Spock refrained from making inferences about the subject matter of the discussion, though an unruly part of his mind recalled the events of two nights ago and the associated emotional turmoil. He instantly abated those thoughts.

Spock knocked politely on the door and entered when he heard the Captain’s command. He saw the man sitting at the small table, which was identical to Spock’s own, with a tight smile on his face.

“Please, sit down,” he said, motioning to the opposite seat. Spock did so and looked at the Captain expectantly.

Several moments of silence followed. Spock opened his mouth to speak, but the Captain beat him to it.

“I wanted to talk about what happened the other night, or, well, I wanted to apologize,” The Captain began. “I don’t want it to affect our working relationship,”

“No apologies are necessary, Captain,” Spock replied effortlessly.

“Please just call me Jim, we’re off duty,” he said, a somewhat more genuine smile crossing his features.

“No apologies are necessary, Jim,” Spock said again. Saying the Captain’s proper name sent a curious thrill through him, it felt unusual and yet curiously familiar. He stifled this but made a mental note of it.

“I just thought that, since I didn’t see you the entire shore leave, that I had offended you or something. I know that Starship Captains are held to a higher standard of ethics, I wanted to assure you that it won’t happen again. I mean, I know I have some bad habits that need breaking. Some people have said I’m a serial romantic, I think I might agree. But I’m going to try to be better,” Jim said. He looked at Spock with an expression he might have interpreted as entreating, though he couldn’t be sure.

“I was not offended. Nor do I consider your comportment unethical. As you were not on active duty at the time, there is no regulation prohibiting such activities,” Spock replied succinctly.

Jim let out a long breath and the tension in his posture abated a visible amount.

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t offended. I was definitely embarrassed being caught like that by my First Officer, and I thought you were avoiding me,” Jim said, shaking his head a little. He rubbed his temples, an action he did in some stressful situations.

“I was not avoiding you, Jim. I was merely engaged in an intensive meditation for the entirety of the shore leave,” Sock said, leaning back a minute amount into the chair.

“Are you alright?” Jim asked, his concern was clear and authentic.

“Affirmative. I sensed a definitive lack in my mental acuity, the situation required immediate rectification,” Spock said, unconsciously pulling back from Jim a bit as a sense of vulnerability touched the edges of his mind.

“I find that hard to believe,” Jim laughed. “What could possibly cause the infamous Master of Logic himself, Mr. Spock, to doubt his own ‘mental acuity?’” Jim asked, his crooked smile disarming Spock without his even realizing it.

“I also experienced… embarrassment upon my intrusion of your personal activities, and I found it disquieting,” Spock said before his mind could catch up with the words. Anger at himself rose up, but Spock caught it before it could reach his expression. Again, without any effort whatsoever, the Captain had managed to penetrate Spock’s carefully built defenses and wring from him an admission that would be considered appalling on his home planet.

Jim was clearly at a loss for words, his expression was vacant, and his mouth was slightly agape. The tension was palpable, Spock nearly rose to leave. Clearly, he was unwell. Something was afflicting his mental state. Perhaps he would have to concede and even consult the Doctor in this matter before it became unmanageable.

“Well… I think anyone would react that way, Mr. Spock. With the exception of some of the bridge crew, who would find it hilarious, I’m sure. But I propose we put that all aside,” Jim suggested, his face recovered, and his countenance resumed its normal, confident façade.

“Agreed, Captain,” Spock said a bit too quickly. He was prepared to leave this topic of discussion immediately.

“Now, how about that chess game you promised me?” Jim asked, walking over to where his towering chessboard sat on his modest shelving unit.

“I am amenable,” Spock said. But he was unsettled. Something within him was amiss, and it was very plausible that this problem was not going to go away on its own.

* * *

To say Jim was relieved would be an understatement. In fact, he was nearly ecstatic in hearing that Spock didn’t think he was a disgrace to the Fleet. Apparently, Spock _had_ been avoiding him during shore leave, but not for the reasons that Jim expected. He was embarrassed. That thought made Jim laugh inside, not at Spock’s obvious stress over it, but at the fact that it was so benign. Of course, it was not such a small thing to a Vulcan, Jim knew that. And Spock’s admission of it was not a small thing either. But that trust made Jim feel a bit giddy. He chalked that up to the relief he felt in that his relationship with his First Officer wasn’t ruined by his night of drunken foolishness. And now they were playing chess as though nothing happened. Jim was practically on Cloud Nine.

It was no surprise that Spock was a formidable opponent at chess. Just a few moves in and Jim was straining his brain to its full potential. All the while, Spock was incredibly quiet, and, if Jim was not mistaken, seemed distracted. In all honesty, Jim expected to lose the game from the start, but as it progressed, they were on pretty equal footing. Jim was absorbed by his own competitive spirit, and started making moves that he knew would be seen as illogical to Spock. But Jim always played the long game. In the end, even though it seemed Jim was sure to be defeated, he pulled out his devastating final move. Checkmate.

Spock looked a little nonplused at this as he raised his eyebrows almost unnoticeably. He took several moments of careful consideration before resting his delicate fingers on his king piece and gently laid it down on the board.

“I concede the victory to you, Captain,” he said. 

“Good game, Mr. Spock,” Jim said, holding out his hand in a force of habit. Spock looked at it and back at Jim, his eyes wider than normal in what could be alarm.

“Sorry,” Jim said, withdrawing his hand a little awkwardly. “Thank you for playing with me,”

“Indeed. Though many of your moves were illogical, you are, as you said, ‘pretty good,’” Spock said. The compliment made Jim beam.

“I expect a rematch. Soon,” Jim said, standing as Spock rose from his own chair.

“I am amenable,” Spock replied, but he seemed a bit far away to Jim. Maybe he was just shocked that Jim had beaten him. But something didn’t seem quite right with his First Officer. Jim decided he had pried enough for the day and let it go.

“Good night, Mr. Spock,” Jim said, following him to the door of his quarters.

“Good night…Jim,” Spock said with a softness that was hard to ignore. Jim watched him leave, the sound of his own name in Spock’s low voice echoed in his mind and made him swoon a little.

Wait. Swoon?

A few dozen-odd pieces of Jim’s brain suddenly came into alignment.

Yes, Jim thought that Spock was attractive. He had noticed that the moment they met. But this wasn’t new to Jim in any respect. He found 80 percent of the people he met attractive and that never colored his opinion of them, and in most cases did not dictate his behavior toward them. It was imperative that as a Captain he kept himself on a tight leash when it came to the people he worked with professionally. Sometimes he faltered, as was obvious from his most recent mistake. But his opinions about the physical appearance of his crew never crept farther than superficial consideration.

It was becoming increasingly clear to Jim, however, that there was more going on with his feelings regarding his First Officer than was previously willing to admit to himself. Jim was now forced to address something that had been simmering on the back burner of his mind for a while now. Jim wanted to get to know Spock, he wanted to know about his childhood and his family, about why he joined Starfleet. He wanted to play chess with him every day. And yes, it was definitely more than just a desire to be friendly with all of his crewmates. He wanted to spend time together talking, maybe even laughing. Jim’s heart seemed to skip a beat when he imagined what it might look like to see Spock smile, to hear him laugh aloud. And when Jim thought again about Spock’s face lit by the stars, those sharp cheekbones and dark, piercing eyes, his strong silhouette, his heart gave way to an unmistakable longing.

And it was with a sense of sinking dread that Jim realized that this simple attraction was more than that. It was becoming a crush. _A crush_. On his First Officer.

Jim put his head in his hands. This was definitely the beginning of a great big disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here we go. The real trouble finally begins. Thank you for reading, and thank you to the commenters and everyone who left kudos. You are truly lovely people and I hope you come back to read the next installment. Best wishes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their next mission, the Enterprise encounters unknown lifeforms on an uncharted planet and they find themselves in a sticky situation that leads to a narrow escape, thanks to Mr. Spock. While everything seems okay, will the aftermath cause more strife than the incident? This is a classic TOS-inspired chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go. Another chapter and this one is a little longer. Thanks for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Warnings: near-death experience, unconsciousness, vampire mention, captivity, Medical Bay.

Jim had a lot on his plate already, and his little revelation about his feelings toward his own First Officer did not help things in the least. He began trying to reason himself out of it. He and Spock had not known each other very long, a little over half a year and that was all. They also had spent little quality time together, besides a few breakfast chats, a couple of discussions on the bridge, and that one somewhat tense game of chess. Even if he had some sort of desire for Spock simmering under the surface, there was nothing to be done about it. It was completely silly, he felt like he was a middle school child again silently admiring someone he shared space with, and sometimes imagining them together, but never addressing the reality of what a relationship with them would entail. The reality was that they were crewmates doing an important job. And while Jim wanted them to be friends and work well together, the chances of this ever-progressing forward from a cordial friendship were virtually none. Jim was an adult and a professional, and he would act like one. In this case, acting like an adult and a professional for Jim completely ignoring the feelings he had and shoving them deep, deep down. There, problem solved.

Currently, the Enterprise was headed to a little-explored section of space to gather scientific data. The star system was called Zatanda and nothing was known about it, not even if there was intelligent life there, or how far it had progressed. For about a week they had been in transit, traveling slightly below warp speed to reach their destination lightyears away from the nearest Federation base.

During this period of travel, Jim tried to find solace in routine. His crew was operating like a well-oiled machine, everyone was efficient and appeared cheerful. However, it was a bit isolating being on the ship, hurtling through space alone with the stars just cold pinpricks on the horizon. Jim imagined the ancient mariners and how they must have felt much the same, being adrift in a vastness that was vying to swallow you up, pushing back against the wiles of nature and physics just to travel another mile.

Each day was more or less the same. He woke up early, grabbed some coffee, generally with McCoy but sometimes with Mr. Spock, or another lone crewmember, and went about his duties. After his shift, he would do his paperwork, fill in his log, and try to entertain himself until it was time to go to sleep and do it all again. It was a consistent pressure, one that he found himself adapting to, but it would be nice to arrive on a new uncharted planet and do what they were really meant to be doing: discovering the secrets of the uncharted universe. Jim thrived when there was excitement, he did his best work in the face of the unknown. This routine grind of duty was Jim’s own personal challenge. Whether he was rising to it or buckling was yet to be seen.

As it usually happened, excitement and the unexpected arrived very conveniently on Jim’s doorstep as they approached their final destination.

“Captain, I’m picking up a communication signal,” Uhura said, breaking through the usual droning murmur of the bridge.

“Location?” Jim asked, sitting upright and leaning into the promise of an adventure.

“It’s coming from the Zatanda system, it appears to be one of the four class-M planets,” she replied, adjusting the dials on the communications device. The crew instantly threw themselves into their readings with gusto.

“Can you make it out?” Jim asked, getting up from his chair to lean over the display.

“It’s not translating, Captain. There is a lot of interference,” she replied, furiously adjusting the knobs.

“Keep on it, Lieutenant,” Jim demanded. There was a period of fifteen minutes as the Enterprise slowed down to approach the Zatanda system but stay out of the reach of its gravitational pull where everyone was furiously taking readings and trying to gather data.

“I’ve got the location, Captain, it’s the third planet in the system, but the message is unintelligible,” Uhura said triumphantly.

“Readings, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked, catching a glimpse of the Vulcan bent over the science station and consciously resisting a longer look.

“It is indeed a class-M planet, Captain, but the scanner is not receiving verification of intelligent lifeforms,” Spock stated, turning to look at Jim with an impenetrable gaze.

“Well, then I think this calls for a scouting party,” Jim said a little too enthusiastically, and unable to keep the smile from his face. “Let’s go gather some information.”

Jim assembled his small team consisting of himself, Mr. Spock, Uhura, two seasoned members of his science team, and three veteran redshirts for security detail. He left Sulu in command, with Scotty on standby for immediate extraction, just in case. They would just go down, do a cursory check to see if they could pinpoint the communication signal, then beam back up to discuss moving forward with a larger party. Jim was taking no chances today.

The crew beamed down and found themselves on a hot and rocky planet. The terrain was hard, coarse sand mixed with what appeared to be volcanic rock. There was no vegetation in sight, just black outcroppings of boulders jutting out against a fiery orange sky.

“Try to find the origin of that signal,” Jim commanded, pulling out his own tricorder to scour the airwaves. “And take some readings and samples for a report,” he added, addressing the science team. They nodded and got to work.

The party spread out over the barren landscape searching for the signal, but all was silent and grave. Suddenly, a loud grinding sound pierced the air and the ground below them started to tremble as though it was an earthquake. The violence of the shaking knocked them all over. They huddled in place and endured it for several moments until the planet stilled again.

When Jim looked up, he immediately took stock of the crew to see if anyone was injured. Everyone was picking themselves up from the ground, so his concern was momentarily abated. Jim scanned the surrounding environment.

“Could that tremor be a prelude to some volcanic activity?” Jim asked pointedly to Mr. Spock, whose attention was narrowed in on his tricorder.

“It is entirely possible, Captain. This planet appears to be volatile, with an obvious history of volcanic activity,” Spock replied without looking up.

Jim resumed his scanning of the horizon, on the lookout for any unwelcome surprises. As his eyes fell upon a particular cluster of boulders that struck him as strange.

“Did that rock formation move?” Jim asked, pointing at a large outcropping of rock that he could have sworn wasn’t there before, but now seemed to be looming just a mile or so away.

“Indeed, Captain. It appears the entire formation has changed location. Fascinating,” Mr. Spock said, taking readings of the distance.

“What could that possibly be?” Jim asked aloud, squinting against the intense sunlight and trying to see the formation better.

The planet began to tremble again, the gyrations knocking them once more into the hot sand. This time, a cloud of sand whirled around them, effectively blinding them. The noise was louder than before, the grinding cutting out all other noise.

When the chaos abated, Jim got up, peering through the swirling clouds of dust and sand.

“Status report,” he said into the communicator. Everyone replied that they were okay, and Jim’s heart settled a little. They all stood still and silent while the air settled, but a shadow had fallen on them, blocking out the red light of the planet’s hot sun. It was unmistakable now, the huge pile of rocks was now only a few yards away from them, towering like a black, misshapen fortress.

Everyone’s communicator began emitting a strange, garbled transmission. It sounded like many voices talking at once mixed with static, then it cut off abruptly and went quiet again.

“Captain, I think the transmission is coming from that,” Uhura said, pointing at the rock fortress.

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Lieutenant,” Spock added, gazing at the strange formation and then back to Jim. “The scanner is now reading an energy force, Captain, but it is inconsistent with any known lifeforms. In fact, it appears that whatever force is present, it is not alive as we would classify it,” Mr. Spock said, staring up at the black rocks with a studious look.

“Fascinating,” said Jim. His eyes met Spock’s for a second and Jim laughed despite himself at the stolen phrase. His laughter was cut off abruptly.

“WHO IS YOUR LEADER?” Came a booming voice. The sound emitted unmistakably from the black fortress. Jim was unsure if they, whoever they were, would be able to hear him, so he talked into his communicator, transmitting on an open frequency.

“I am Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, this is Commander Spock, and Lieutenant Uhura, we are from the United Federation of Planets, we come in peace,” he said the practiced line with a thrill running through him. Things were starting to get interesting.

All at once, Jim began to feel strange and lightheaded. He looked over to Spock and Uhura and saw that a bright green light was surrounding them like an aura. He looked down at his hands and saw it was surrounding him as well. A sort of sickness gripped him, and as much as he tried not to, he felt himself losing consciousness. Within another second, the world went black.

When consciousness came back to him, Jim found himself lying on the ground staring up at a ceiling made of black rock. It was hot and stifling, and all around him was silence. Slowly he sat up and saw Spock and Uhura laying on the ground next to him still unconscious. He crawled over to them, checking Uhura for a pulse. She was alive.

“Uhura, wake up,” he said, gently shaking her shoulders.

“Captain?” she said groggily, her eyes slowly fluttering open. “Where are we?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Jim said shortly, crawling over to Spock to repeat the process. The Vulcan was still, as if in sleep, and he looked so peaceful with his face completely relaxed. He looked like a fairytale character awaiting the kiss of life.

“Spock,” Jim whispered, shaking his shoulders a little. Spock’s skin was so warm, even through his clothing. Jim felt for his pulse, his fingers finding that steady, fast thrum indicating he was alive. Jim tried not to think about how soft his skin was. “Spock wake up,”

But the Vulcan did not stir as Uhura had. He remained completely placid and unmoving.

“James T. Kirk,” came a cacophony of voices from behind them. Three figures materialized in front of them, but they were nearly transparent and glowing green, like some strange specters.

“Who are you? What did you do to us?” Jim asked, his temper getting the better of him for fear of his and his officers’ lives.

“We are the Wanderers. We have assumed a form your fragile minds can comprehend,” came the reply in unison, though none of their mouths moved. They looked humanoid and they were wearing long flowing tunics belted at the waist. It was impossible to tell if they were male or female, they were just tall, spindly, and pale beings displaying a mockery of human physical structure. It made Jim uneasy.

“We are here on a mission with the United Federation of Planets, we mean you no harm,” Jim assured them, trying to deescalate whatever situation they had gotten themselves into.

“We know who you are. While you are not receptive, we have gathered information from your Commander Spock,” came the chorused reply. It sounded like a thousand voices in Jim’s head.

“What are you doing to him? Why hasn’t he woken up?” Jim said, nearly snarling.

“For millennia we have traveled across this star system. We inhabit the planets which bear life until they meet their natural end. This was the last planet in our system to still bear life, and it too became extinct when the volcanic eruptions scorched the soil. In our weakness, we became trapped upon it, doomed to slowly fade. Your appearance here is our salvation,” Jim’s head echoed with the reply. He felt dizzy and fatigued. He tried to shake it off.

“What do you mean your salvation?” he asked warily.

“We require an offering of a life force in order to survive, so we might make the journey to another planet to sustain us,” they replied in unison.

“We can help you. You can join the Federation and they will help you, but you have to let us go. And revive my First Officer,” Jim said insistently, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice.

“We shall not be bound by your Federation, and we will be appeased. In days past, the inhabitants offered onto us a yearly sacrifice and we allowed the rest to live unhindered. You will give us a life force and the rest of your crew may leave,” they said in a tone that suggested no negotiation would be considered.

“I won’t sacrifice _any_ of my crew to you. Let us go,” Jim demanded.

“If you will not do so willingly, then we will keep you all and feed upon you until we are sated,” they replied. A clamor went up in the air as the sound of the voices of his other crew members could be heard on the other side of the rock wall to his right. It seemed they were in some holding cells in the bowels of that black rock.

Jim turned back to the figures to argue but found they had disappeared.

“Scotty, come in,” Jim said urgently over the comm. He heard a garbled and static-filled reply, but it was Scotty’s voice.

“Scotty, can you hear me? Lock onto us, get us the hell out of here,” Jim commanded, but all he got was static in reply.

“Keep trying,” Jim said to Uhura. She kept talking into the communicator, adjusting it, trying to reach the ship.

“Can you hear me?” Jim yelled to the rest of the crew through the wall.

“Captain!” Came the muffled reply, the voices vibrating through the rock.

“Sit tight! I’m going to get us out of here!” Jim said though he was unsure of how. They were inside that black rock room with no doors, no windows, and only one strange, glowing rock above them. Jim glanced back at Spock, he needed his problem-solving skills about now, but he was still unconscious.

They fiddled with the communicator for what seemed like hours. Jim searched every inch of the stone walls and floor that he could reach, looking for a seam, a button, something that would let them out. His back was aching from crawling on every inch of the floor looking for a seam or a hatch, but the entire cell was made of rough-hewn stone with no indication of an escape anywhere. Jim was kicking the stone walls in anger when the Wanderers reappeared in the cell.

“We have received the sacrifice,” they said, filling Jim’s head with their buzzing voices.

“I still offer you no one!” Jim yelled, feeling himself becoming a bit unhinged as the feeling of helplessness grabbed ahold of him.

“Your Commander has offered himself on the condition of your release. We are not unkind, we merely wish to survive,” chorused the Wanderers.

“No, I demand you release us! Spock! Don’t give them what they want, don’t give in!” He yelled to the motionless figure below him.

“It has been done,” said the Wanderers. Jim was about to lash out at them when that feeling of lightheadedness came over him again.

* * *

He awoke on the transporter pad and was hauled up to his feet by a very concerned Scotty and an angry McCoy.

“What the hell happened down there?” McCoy asked, “We lost communication three hours ago!”

“Not now, Bones! Did you get everyone on board?” Jim asked frantically.

“Spock is still down there, Captain. I wasn’t able to lock onto his location,” Scotty replied apologetically.

“They still have him! You have to send me back down there,” Jim demanded.

“Who has him?” McCoy asked.

“Those—those vampires! They’re going to drain his life force,” Jim said angrily, shaking McCoy’s hands off of him.

“You need to be checked out, Jim, you’re obviously not in the state to—"

“Don’t touch me! I’m telling you, they’re going to kill him,” Jim said, stepping back up onto the pad. “Beam me down, Scotty,” he demanded.

“Look, even if you were to go back down there, you’d just be taken again. And wherever you were, we couldn’t lock onto a signal. We don’t even know exactly where on the planet he is. You need to calm down and we need to come up with a plan,” Bones said sternly, trying to talk Jim down from his fever pitch state.

Jim fell into his chair and covered his face with his hands. Nothing could ever be easy. And now he was faced with losing another crewmember, and worse, he could lose Spock. He had to think of something, and fast.

“They took us into some sort of rock fortress, if we could find it then maybe we could use the ship’s lasers to blast a hole in it, then we could send down a party,” Jim suggested.

“Or the lasers would cause the whole thing to come down, effectively squashing Spock,” McCoy countered. The two went on like this for a few minutes, arguing over every desperate plan Jim could think of. Jim was about to demand to be sent back to where he was before so he could try to lay siege on the fortress himself when Uhura cut in.

“Captain! I have a lock on Mr. Spock’s communicator!” She said urgently.

“Scotty!” Jim yelled, unable to get out any more words.

“Aye, I’ve got him, Captain,” said Scotty. To Jim’s unparalleled relief, the figure of his First Officer began to materialize on the pad. Spock slowly became whole again, his face was grave as he scanned the crew. He took one step forward and then collapsed onto the ground. Jim and McCoy both rushed over to him, pulling an arm over their shoulders and heading straight for Medbay.

The bay was populated with the landing party that had just been recovered. The nurses were frantically checking them over, and when they were cleared, told to go to bed. Jim paced back and forth while McCoy hooked Spock up to the machines and took his readings. The Vulcan was unconscious again, and Jim was hardly holding himself together. This couldn’t happen right now, his conscience couldn’t take it if Spock died in the line of duty to save the crew, to save him.

“He’s stable, for now. It seems like he’s in a healing trance. His vitals are weak but I’m sure he’ll pull through,” McCoy said, Jim walked over to Spock’s bedside and gazed down at his pale face. He looked weak, fragile, drained. Jim was wracked with guilt.

“I said he’s stable, Jim, it’s going to be fine,” McCoy repeated, putting a gentle hand on Jim’s shoulder. The doctor pushed a pointed look at Jim, but Jim was unsure what it meant. “Now, you go get some rest. I’ll come get you if he wakes up,” McCoy promised.

Jim was bone tired, and it hit him all at once. Before he went back to his quarters, he visited the bridge to brief the Beta shift crew on what happened, giving them instructions to wake him at the first sign of trouble. Jim didn’t want those beings coming after him for revenge. Then he stopped at Uhura’s quarters to make sure she was alright. She assured him she was fine, just a little rattled, but glad that Mr. Spock had made it out. After that, he sat down at his desk to make his report in his log, while it was still fresh in his mind. Finally, unable to keep his eyes open anymore, he laid down in his bed with his dirty uniform still on and fell into a death-like sleep.

The piercing sound of the alarm was what woke Jim up. He was groggy and dehydrated, his muscles stiff and resisting as he pulled himself upright. Jim took only enough time to shower, put on a clean uniform, and swallow a glass of water before headed straight to Medbay.

When he arrived, he was relieved to see McCoy talking to an upright Mr. Spock.

“I thought you were going to call me when he woke up,” Jim said accusingly as he approached.

“Yeah, well, I thought you could use the rest,” McCoy said a little grumpily.

“Mr. Spock, how are you doing?” Jim asked in a softer voice.

“I am well, Captain,” Spock replied his usual inscrutable demeanor flawlessly in place.

“’Well’ is a stretch. He’s obviously lucid, but his vitals aren’t up to standard, he needs to stay on bed rest until they improve,” McCoy butted in.

“I assure you, Doctor, my physical condition is adequate to resume my normal duties,” Mr. Spock argued.

“Yeah, well, last time I checked I was the CMO, and you’re the Vulcan who just came back from the brink of death. You’re stayin’ in that bed until I say otherwise,” McCoy said, crossing his arms and staring intently at the Vulcan.

“Indeed,” was Spock’s reply. He did look worse for wear. He still had that deathlike pallor and under his eyes were dark and bruised.

“What happened down there?” Jim was unable to stop himself from asking.

“Jim,” McCoy started to protest.

“We can talk about it later,” Jim quickly said, trying to regain some sort of composure.

“I am well enough to answer,” Spock assured, staring down McCoy like it was a battle of wills. Spock appeared to win.

“The ‘Wanderers,’ as they call themselves, had astounding telepathic and psychokinetic abilities. They entered my mind and disconnected my physical functionality from my conscious awareness, as it appears the do to all their victims,” Spock began. “However, they essentially initiated a mind meld which allowed for me, in turn, to access their collective consciousness. I believe you often refer to this phenomena as a ‘hive mind,’ in reference to your planets insect population, though it is not essentially the same as insects—”

“Hive mind, got it,” interrupted McCoy. Jim shot him a warning look.

“Go on, Mr. Spock,” Jim said.

“The Wanderers in fact were at the same time one entity, as well as individuals, sharing one life force which must be replenished from other living beings. As they said, the planet they were inhabiting became devoid of life after a catastrophic volcanic eruption. Though they need only a small amount of energy to survive for long periods of time, their energy had since weakened substantially, thus restricting their ability to travel to another planet. This is the reason they required a living sacrifice, to travel to another populated planet. It is my opinion that less advanced civilizations worshiped them as gods and sacrificed themselves willingly to sustain them,”

“And when you heard they were going to kill the entire crew in lieu of a sacrifice, you offered yourself instead,” Jim stated. McCoy had apparently not been informed of this, as his eyebrows nearly shot off of his face as he looked back and forth between Jim and Spock.

“I offered myself as a sacrifice on the assumption they would then set you free. While their morality can be called into question, from my acquaintance with their culture it appeared they did not enjoy inflicting suffering upon other beings, and as such preferred sacrifices to be granted willingly. When you had been vacated from their dwelling, they began draining my life force. They had not much experience with other beings of a telepathic nature, it seems, only themselves. I began struggling against the bond and attempting to free my mind from them. It is only because of my intense dedication to achieving a disciplined mind—”

“And your overwhelming humility,” McCoy added as a jab. Jim almost boxed his ears.

“--that I was able to break free. While I was free from their control of my physical state, they continued to drain the energy force of my being. However, their distraction caused a lapse in their interference with the communicators. I was then able to send the signal to the Enterprise,”

“So you got lucky, is what you’re saying,” McCoy supplied, looking between Jim and Spock again.

Spock heaved an uncharacteristic sigh. At that moment he looked tired and deflated.

“Yes, Doctor, I suppose you could say that I ‘got lucky’ that they were sufficiently distracted long enough to allow me to escape,” Spock said, leaning against the pillow.

“You saved all of us,” Jim said in a low tone. “Thank you, Spock,”

“Thanks are unnecessary, Captain. It was the most logical course of action. When I became sure you would be released upon the offering of my own life, I proceeded without doubt. It is my duty to ensure your saf—the crew’s safety. And I would do so again upon any occasion it was warranted,” Spock said, sliding his eyes away from them for a moment. When his eyes settled back, his resolved neutrality was replaced.

“Okay, that’s enough debriefing for today. Spock, go to sleep. Jim, get out of my Medical Bay and go do some Captaining, that’s what they pay you for,” McCoy said, manhandling Jim out of the room.

Jim did as he was told and walked away with McCoy following him. At the door, Jim stopped and looked at McCoy plaintively.

“How is he, really?” Jim asked.

“He’s weak. I don’t know how long it’ll take for him to recover his strength, and I think they did something to his head, but he won’t tell me what, and I don’t know how to find the problem, let alone how to fix it. It was a close call, Jim. I gotta say I’m surprised he did that, sacrificed himself,” Bones admitted.

“I’m not,” Jim said, smiling a little to himself.

“Well, it was a stupid move, something you would do,” Bones said.

Jim simply nodded and walked down the hall.

While he was relieved that Spock was okay, he knew the weight of the whole situation wouldn’t hit him until later. He thought about how Spock said it was his duty to ensure _his_ safety, Jim’s safety. Sure, it could have been a slip of the tongue, Spock caught himself and said ‘the crew’ but it stuck in Jim’s mind and nagged at him. The thought of Spock giving up his own life to save Jim’s, even if he thought he could escape, made Jim’s heart sink in icy coldness. But for now, he had to stand tall and confident, push back his doubt, be the Captain of this lonely ship battling through the sea of stars. Hopefully, he would manage to carry them all through and live another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think! Thank you for reading, and a huge thank you to the people that left kudos and comments. You're my inspiration. Also, I'm having trouble with the formatting here, when I copy and paste from a word document, it doesn't save my tabs/indentations. So if anyone knows how to deal with that, I'd be grateful if you would let me know. Thank you and best wishes!

**Author's Note:**

> I know it was a bit heavy, but it gets much lighter after this. I hope you enjoyed it, and I’d love to hear what you think. Thanks for reading!


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